


Glitter and Combat Boots

by CaliHart



Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint Barton-centric, Flirting, Guardian-Ward Relationship, Insecurity, Kate's a snarky little thing and Clint loves her, M/M, Minor Polyamory, Modern Bucky Barnes, Police!Clint, SWAT!Clint, Sexual Content, Stripper Bucky Barnes, it doesn't really come up much though, legal guardian Clint Barton, tiny Steve also makes an appearance, trying to start a fight like always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-23 18:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14939573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaliHart/pseuds/CaliHart
Summary: Clint has been living the life of a Single Dad for five years, raising his cousin, Kate, and he won't admit it, but he's lonely. His teammates take him out to a strip club for his birthday, doing their best to combat that loneliness, and Clint gets some attention from a handsome male stripper.When he meets that same man only a few days later on the subway home, dressed in glitter and combat boots in comparison to Clint's post-work grunge, he has no idea that this man may be the cure to his loneliness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bear_shark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bear_shark/gifts).



> Thank you extensively to Dottie for all her alpha work, and also Megan and Kristina for their beta work, and the people who cheered me on and said they were looking forward to this fic. I hope it doesn't disappoint! 
> 
> The art in this fic was done by [Bear_shark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bear_shark)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/68164225@N00/42029341845/in/dateposted-public/)

It’s Clint’s birthday, and the men who are his teammates both on the regular police force and the SWAT team are taking him out. Out where, he doesn’t know, and it makes him a bit nervous. He thinks he heard one mention a strip club, and he hasn’t told anyone that he’s not exactly straight. Technically, Clint thinks he’s probably bi, but after a messy divorce, he’s not so much into women anymore, and raising his fifteen year old cousin Kate doesn’t leave a lot of time for socializing with people he doesn’t already live with. Then again, his teammates are perceptive men—they have to be, with their jobs—and so he’s relieved to find them pulling up to Red Room, a club that has both male and female, uh, staff. 

Blake, the only openly gay man on the team, gives Clint a wink and slugs him in the shoulder as they pile out of the cars. Maybe he’s who Clint has to thank for the destination. 

The others don’t give him a chance to hesitate, crowding around him and herding him forward while Chris, the team leader, charges ahead. It turns out they’ve made a _reservation_ , and Clint groans inwardly. 

“Come on, it’s your birthday, man! Lighten up!” Jason says, clapping him on the shoulder and steering him to the corner they’ve reserved. Clint goes reluctantly, because even if it’s not a strictly straight club, he doesn’t really want to have some half naked stranger dancing on him in front of all his younger colleagues. Booths don’t really exist in places like this, so he gets shoved onto a chair that feels way too rickety. Like maybe someone broke it and they had it fixed by an amateur instead of just replacing it. 

Thankfully, someone starts them off with a round of drinks, and then immediately toast to Clint’s 33rd birthday, drawing attention from people nearby. Clint does his best to hide behind his glass. Turns out shot glasses aren’t a very effective barrier, because a pretty blonde woman who looks a lot like his ex-wife Bobbi comes over, and he tries not to cringe when she smiles at him. 

“Are we celebrating tonight, gentlemen?” She asks, glancing over the group but most of her attention on Clint. 

“Yes!” Jason says. “It’s Clint’s birthday and he hasn’t had any action in _ages_. We had to bring him to his first strip club before he’s too old for it, he’s already _thirty-three_.” 

The woman looks amused as she turns to Clint. 

“It’s _not_ my first strip club,” he mutters before she can say anything. 

“Are you looking to do something special for the birthday boy?” She asks anyway. 

Chris speaks up before Jason can start to embarrass him any further. “Yes, actually. We booked a private showing for him, and…” He steps closer to her so he can lower his voice, keeping the plans from Clint. He stares into his empty shot glass and wishes for another. 

“Of course,” the woman says a moment later. “That won’t be any trouble. If you’ll come with me to confirm the details and pay for it?” 

“Sure. Come on, Jason, help me get some more drinks for the group.” Chris and Jason follow the woman to the counter. Clint looks up at Blake, hovering by his elbow. 

“Is it too late to run away screaming?” he asks. “I’m not sure I trust you guys to plan a good surprise…” 

Blake snorts and grins, straddling the chair next to him. “It won’t be bad, I promise. Just a lap dance from one of their hottest dancers.” 

“Oh, is that all?” Clint asks, disbelieving. 

“You didn’t tell him about the—” Brian starts, only to be cut off when Blake smacks him in the stomach. It just serves to make Clint suspicious. Before he can ask about it, two people approach their group. 

It’s a man and a woman, both obviously performers. He’s surprised to realize he recognizes the woman, even though he shouldn’t be. He’s well aware Natasha works here; he just forgot what days she has off. Natasha glances at him and winks, then deliberately moves toward the other side of the group where three men are eyeing her like she’s a steak. She’s wearing a skintight black leather outfit, most of her skin covered but her curves accentuated. In direct contrast, her male counterpart is wearing only a pair of stringy underwear and combat boots. The strings loop around his hips, a solid black panel barely covering all his business. Blake’s eyes nearly fall out of his head, and Clint can’t stop staring either. He’s lean and tan with muscles clearly defined on his chest and arms, and thick thighs. The man smirks and saunters straight over to them, easily able to recognize his targets. 

“Hello gentlemen,” he purrs. “Enjoying your drinks?” 

“Yeah,” Blake says, “but I can see something else I’d like to drink.” He pointedly eyes the man up and down, and the man laughs. He does a really good job of making it not sound fake, even though that was a terrible line, and Clint should know. He is the king of terrible lines. 

“I heard we have a birthday boy over here somewhere,” the man muses, tapping a finger to his lower lip thoughtfully, and finally dragging Clint’s eyes up to his face. He’s gorgeous, and Clint simultaneously feels stunned and insignificant. Dark hair falling into his ice-blue eyes, surrounded by laugh lines, and full lips turned up at the corners. His eyes are fixed on Clint as if he already knows who he’s there for, and maybe he does, because he doesn’t break eye contact as he offers, “You want a private dance? We’ve got a special for birthdays.” 

Clint struggles to find his voice so Blake does it for him. “Of course he does!” He says, shoving Clint up and out of his chair and nearly into the man’s arms. Clint’s hands fall on the man’s hips as he stumbles, but he snatches them back as soon as he has his balance, not wanting to violate the no-touching rule. The man looks amused, his own hands on Clint’s shoulders. 

“I’m the Winter Soldier,” he introduces. “My partner the Black Widow can take care of your friends if you want to follow me.” He tips his head in Natasha’s direction, giving a flirtatious smile. 

“Um, okay,” Clint says. 

“Excellent,” Winter purrs, taking him by the hand to lead him away. There’s even muscles on his back, and his shoulders look amazing, not to mention everything else. The boots have heels that put a nice sway in his hips. Blake wolf whistles, and a couple of the other guys catcall as they notice Clint leaving. Winter leads him into the back hallway and into a private room that only features a bed, a single chair, and a nightstand. “Go ahead and get comfortable,” Winter says. “I’m going to change into something a little more appropriate and be right back.” He closes the door with a wink and Clint lets out a breath. 

“What did I let myself get talked into?” Clint mutters to himself. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants and walks a circle around the room, familiarizing himself with the layout, furniture, and exits (only one, the door he came through). He settles in the chair, not wanting to make assumptions about what’s about to happen. It takes a minute for Winter to return, and when he does, he falters for just a moment when he doesn’t see Clint on the bed. For a second, it almost looks like disappointment on his face, and then he spots Clint on the chair and smiles again. 

“There you are. You ready for your dance?” He asks, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. 

“No,” Clint chokes out when he sees what Winter is wearing, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What’s wrong?” Winter asks. 

Clint gestures helplessly at his outfit. It’s a SWAT uniform, but the kind you can get at a Halloween store, flimsy material and no padding whatsoever. It’s been tailored to fit him better so it doesn’t look like a sack, but coupled with his hair, buzzed short on the left side and long enough to hang in his face on the rest, it’s very much _not_ regulation and part of Clint is shrieking about it. He can’t even tell whether Winter looks good in it past the voice in his head freaking out about breaking the rules. 

“I don’t like to mix work and play,” he manages eventually. Winter looks down at himself and then back up. 

“Work?” He asks. 

“I’m on a SWAT team,” Clint says. “Please, go change into _anything_ else but that.” He pauses. “Or a police uniform.” 

Winter eyes him thoughtfully for a moment, and Clint is starting to wonder how much of his freakout is showing on his face before Winter smiles and nods. “Alright, I’ll go see what else I have. Be back soon.” 

“Thanks. And sorry!” Clint calls as he leaves. Winter just waves a hand and closes the door, leaving him alone again. Clint sighs explosively and rubs his hands over his face. Some birthday this is turning out to be. Maybe he should’ve just stayed home with Kate and takeout food and watched movies (she would let him watch both Brave and the animated Robin Hood on his birthday, because she was nice like that). But Kate had convinced him to go out and “have some sort of a life for once, Clint,” so here he is, making a fool of himself. He takes his phone out just as a message from her pops up. 

_‘Don’t you dare think about coming home! >:(‘ _

Clint sheepishly tucks it away without responding and tries to wait patiently. Winter returns after a few minutes, peeking around the door with a smile before he walks in. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, a vest with no shirt underneath, and jeans with a belt and a huge belt buckle. He’s changed his boots to match the rest of it. 

“How’s this?” Winter asks. Clint can’t speak for a minute, unable to look away from his hips where the jeans ride low. “Better?” 

“You look great,” Clint says, gulping as Winter grins and comes closer. 

“How about that dance then?” He says, and Clint can only nod. Winter puts on some music and walks behind Clint, trailing fingertips over his shoulders. He braces his hand on the back of the chair and swings around, straddling Clint and sitting on his lap in one smooth movement. Clint carefully keeps his hands to himself, eyeing those thick thighs spread around him, and Winter chuckles above him. “You have good manners, cutie, but it’s okay to touch.” When Clint hesitates, Winter takes one of his hands and sets it on his bare hip. Clint’s thumb brushes over his hip bone. “Mm, yeah, like that,” Winter hums, starting to circle his hips on Clint’s lap. Clint sets his other hand on Winter’s other hip, holding firm enough to keep his grip but not to hold him still. He keeps rubbing his thumbs over Winter’s hips and stares as his thighs and abs flex with his movement. 

“Are you shy?” Winter asks, inching closer to press and rub their groins together. Clint groans. 

“Not...not really? It’s just been a while,” Clint says. Winter’s pecs are right in front of his face, teasing flashes of his nipples as the vest moves, and his mouth is watering with the urge to taste. 

“Well, that’s okay,” Winter chuckles. He reaches up and starts to remove the vest as he dances, pulling it down over his shoulders and biceps and holding it there for a moment. Clint swallows so he won’t start drooling. The fabric just emphasises the size of his arms. Winter gets the vest off and tosses it away, putting his hands on Clint’s shoulders. 

“You seem strong,” he says admiringly, petting his hands down Clint’s shoulders and squeezing his biceps. “You go to the gym a lot for work?” 

“No, I—” Clint swallows, mouth suddenly dry, “I don’t want to talk about work.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything else.” 

“Anything?” Winter says thoughtfully. He guides Clint’s hands to his chest, inviting him to get a feel with a smirk. Clint squeezes them gently. “It’s your birthday, right? How old are you?” 

“I’m thirty-three,” Clint says. He takes his hands away as Winter moves, turning around to press his back to Clint’s chest. “How old are you?” He asks in return, nearly missing the sound of Winter’s belt buckle coming undone. 

“Hm, twenty-eight,” Winter says, shimmying his jeans down to press his bare ass to Clint’s groin. 

“Is that your real age?” Clint stutters around a groan. 

“Yes,” Winter chuckles, tugging one of Clint’s hands back up to his pec. Clint gives a squeeze and Winter wiggles enticingly in his lap. His other hand clutches at the edge of the chair. “Are you liking this birthday?” 

“I am now, yeah,” Clint gasps. 

“I’m glad.” Winter glances back over his shoulder and meets Clint’s eyes. The gray of his eyes is dark and stormy, shadowed by the hat, and Clint feels like he could get lost in them. “No kissing, now. Keep your mouth to yourself.” 

“Yes sir,” Clint says before he can stop himself. “Ugh, I didn’t mean to say that.” 

Winter laughs at him. “Your friends out there, are they your coworkers?” 

“Yeah. It was their idea to come out on our day off. I was just gonna stay home for my birthday.” 

“Well I’m glad they brought you here. I would’ve missed seeing your cute face.” 

Clint huffs. “How much did they pay you to say that?” 

“No one paid me to say anything.” Winter does a full body roll that has Clint grasping at his hips with both hands. Winter taps the back of his hands to make sure he keeps them there. “They paid for the time, specified the outfit, and told me your name and what you looked like. You know how this works?” 

“Yeah, I know. Your partner, Black Widow, is actually a friend of mine.” 

“She is? How much of a friend?” 

“Enough of a friend that she comes over to my apartment and complains about clients getting too handsy,” Clint says pointedly. Winter covers Clint’s hands with his own. 

“I like your hands. Nice rough calluses, feels good,” Winter says. “They feel strong. I bet you’d give good massages.” 

“Natasha seems to think so,” Clint agrees. 

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” Winter says. He leans forward to take off his pants and boots, giving Clint a nice view of his backside, and then he turns around, wearing only a jockstrap and the hat. 

“Damn,” Clint mutters. Winter grins at him, tips the hat down, and starts gyrating just above Clint’s lap, legs spread wide and hands braced on his own knees. Clint keeps his hands clenched tightly at his sides as Winter works through a few positions, turning a slow circle to make eyes at Clint over his shoulder, and at one point, grinding his dick right against Clint’s stomach while burying his fingers in Clint’s hair to tilt his head back and stare into his eyes. 

Clint barely manages to keep himself contained. 

The music that Clint hasn’t even noticed changes a few seconds later, and Winter backs off, picking up his jeans to pull them back on. Clint whimpers in protest. 

“There’s a bathroom down the hall if you need a minute,” Winter offers, laughter in his voice. He tugs his jeans up slowly, letting Clint get one more look at his bare thighs before he covers them up. 

“I might take you up on that,” Clint says, watching Winter zip up his pants. 

“Just two doors down on the left,” Winter says, collecting the other bits of his costume from next to Clint’s chair. “And hey, if you come back? Ask for me again. I really enjoyed dancing for you.” 

“Sure,” Clint squeaks out, thrown by the visual of Winter’s head in his lap as he reaches over for his belt. Winter tosses his belt over his shoulder, winks, and then leaves the room. Clint takes a moment to collect himself and then heads to the bathroom Winter directed him to. 

 

“Hey, there he is!” Chris calls when Clint heads back over to them. He feels flushed and warm all over, and can’t keep a little grin off his face. 

“You look like you had a good time,” Blake teases, reaching up to ruffle his hair. Clint bats his hand away. He’d tried to fix his hair in the bathroom once he was done taking care of his erection and cleaning up, but maybe he didn’t do so well. “Sporting the sex hair without the walk of shame.” 

“You know it’s not that kind of place,” Clint scolds. “He was just...really nice. Played with my hair a little.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Blake says. A few of the other guys trade looks. Some of them look more disheveled than he does. 

“Did you miss me?” He asks, taking over a chair and grabbing a drink from the tray on the table. 

“Oh, we had plenty of company while you were gone. Jason’s up at the stage getting a closer look at a girl he wants some attention from.” 

“Good luck to him.” Clint throws back his drink and gets up. “I’m gonna go settle my tab and head out.” 

“Aw come on.” 

“Clint, you can’t!”

“It’s your birthday!” 

“Guys, I’m starving, and I’ve gotta get home and make sure Kate’s done her homework and not set the apartment on fire,” Clint says, waving them off. “You have fun without me.” 

“Party pooper,” someone grumbles. Clint cheerfully flips them off. 

“I’ll see you at work,” he says. He heads to the bar, gets the attention of a bartender, and reaches for his wallet only to find it’s not in his pocket. 

“Looking for this?” Winter says behind him. Clint turns to find he’s changed his clothes again, back into his combat boots, this time with some leather pants to go with them, the cowboy hat nowhere to be found. He’s holding out Clint’s wallet. “You left it back in the room.” 

“Thanks.” Clint takes it, half turns, and then turns back. “Can you wait a minute?” He asks. Winter smiles and nods. Clint quickly pays the bartender and then turns around. Winter takes his hand and tugs him away from the crowd at the bar. 

“What’d you want? I don’t hand out my number to clients,” Winter says, quirking an eyebrow, a smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. 

“No no, I just, I know my friends paid for you, but uh, I don’t know how much it was, and you left before I got the chance to tip you, and that doesn’t sit right with me, so.” He digs in his wallet and pulls out a couple bills, handing them over. Winter grins and tucks them into his pocket. 

“Thanks, cutie.” He reaches out and runs his fingers through Clint’s hair, and Clint can’t help but lean into it. “I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, probably,” Clint says. Winter grins, gives him a little wave and a wink, and saunters away. Only after he’s disappeared into the crowd does Clint actually leave the club. 

Kate is still awake when he gets home, waiting with a half dozen cupcakes that look professionally made, decorated in purple frosting and edible glitter. They’re clustered three on one side and three on the other, each cupcake with a lit candle. 

“What’s this?” Clint asks. 

“Well, a whole cake is too much for just us to eat, but cupcakes are manageable. Happy birthday old man.” 

“Aww, Katie.” Clint pulls her into a hug, and she nuzzles up under his chin. “They look great, thanks.” 

“Make a wish and blow out the candles,” Kate murmurs, pulling away. Clint thinks for a minute, makes his wish, and blows out the candles, plunging them into darkness. Kate flips on the kitchen light and they pluck the candles from the cupcakes, licking off the frosting before setting them in the sink to deal with later. 

“What’d you wish for?” Kate asks as she snags a cupcake for herself. 

“Can’t say or it won’t come true,” Clint replies, making her pout at him. He tugs her close and kisses her forehead. “Tell America thanks for the cupcakes. Did you get all your homework done?” 

Kate rolls her eyes. “ _Yes_ , Clint.” 

“Good. Now, do we have any food around here or should I order takeout? Someone would call CPS on me if I let you have cupcakes for dinner.”

“I already ordered Chinese food,” Kate says. “No, not pizza. Because you’re too predictable.” 

Clint closes his mouth on the questions he never even asked and pouts at her. “...Did you at least get—”

“—Your weird spicy shrimp noodles? Yes. You can thank me later.” 

Clint grumbles and drags her in to ruffle her hair, listening to her shriek. 

“You’re the worst!” She says, smacking his thigh. “I’ll call CPS on you myself!” 

Clint should maybe act like it’s not funny just to make her laugh more, but the idea of it (aided by exhaustion from a long day at work) has him howling with laughter. Kate can’t just not laugh when someone else—especially Clint—does, and she joins him. It’s made worse every time they wind down and then meet each other’s eyes again. By the time food gets there, tears are streaming down Kate’s face and Clint’s sides hurt.

Kate pays, declaring that because it’s his birthday, it’s illegal that he pay for any of it. He doesn’t protest, but does make sure they watch House Hunters instead of Keeping Up with the Kardashians like she wants.

HGTV, like always, is easy to fall into. Still, Winter stays in the back of his mind as they watch couples with ridiculous goals get their dream homes. 

Hours later, even after they’ve cleaned the kitchen and he’s double checked to make sure Kate’s homework is done, he goes to bed still thinking about Winter’s shining gray eyes. Maybe there’s some truth to what his teammates said about him being alone for too long. 

~~

Clint wakes up with a piece of paper taped to his forehead. After he peels it off and rubs his eyes, he squints at it in the dim light coming through his curtains. 

“Bread. Milk. Eggs,” he reads, mumbling. He groans and rubs his hand over his face before forcing himself out of bed, leaving the grocery list on the pillow. 

One shower and two cups of coffee later, he heads out with the list, along with his wallet and phone, tucked in the pocket of his hoodie, Kate tucked under his arm. Since he’s off today, he doesn’t care about going out in his grungy clothes. If he had a choice, honestly, he’d wear them every day, but unfortunately his job has a dress code. It’s only on his days off that he gets to wear his old hoodies and ripped up jeans. Kate says it makes him look like he crawled out of a dumpster, but Kate is a 15 year old girl and doesn’t understand men’s fashion. No one on the subway cares anyway. 

The store he goes to is two stops away. He could just go to the closer corner store, but Kate refuses to eat their fruits, especially the apples, claiming she saw a worm in in one once, so he has to go farther afield. Kate splits off almost immediately because she doesn’t want to be seen with him until they check out. Clint is wandering down the snack aisle, wondering if he should get some doritos, when he sees Winter at the other end of the aisle, headed his way. Of course, because it’s just his luck, Clint walks straight into a display of crackers and brings the whole thing down on top of himself trying to catch it. 

“Aw, man,” he whines softly as a pair of booted feet jog over to him. 

“Hey, you okay?” Winter asks, leaning over him. 

Clint just nods, not trusting his voice, and brushes boxes off of his chest. Winter steps around the mess and offers a hand. Clint’s surprised that Winter’s strong enough to actually lift him off the floor; he’s not a light guy, muscle packed onto his frame by necessity, but then he’s seen Winter’s biceps up close and personal. They’re nothing to sneeze at. 

“Hey, you’re the cutie from the club the other day,” Winter says, surprised. 

“Um. Yeah,” Clint says. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and then drops to his knees to start picking up the display. Hopefully he won’t have to pay for all of them if he fixes it. Winter’s breath catches above his head, but before he can look up, Winter’s crouching on the other side of the mess, helping him pick it up. They have the stand upright and all the boxes off the floor in no time, and only a few have dented corners. Clint sticks two of them in his basket guiltily and Winter grabs the third, smiling when Clint looks up at him. 

“You probably don’t need three family size boxes,” Winter says. “You’re just taking them so no one else has to deal with them, right?” 

“Well...yeah. I mean, it was my fault they got damaged in the first place.” He points to the box in Winter’s hands. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to,” Winter says. “Can’t let you be the only one around here doing good deeds.” 

Clint feels his face go warm as Winter tucks the box into his own basket. Before anything else can happen, Kate pops up at his elbow. 

“My ‘Clint’s in trouble’ senses were tingling. I only left you for five minutes, what happened? Who's this?” She asks rapidly, eyeing Winter. 

“Nothing happened,” Clint says. “This is...um.” He really doesn’t know what to say. He can’t introduce Winter by his stage name, but he doesn’t know his real name, and won’t invade his privacy by asking. Winter’s eyes are wide as he stares back at Clint, obviously thinking along the same lines. 

“James,” Winter says. “My name is James. And you are?” He raises an eyebrow at Kate. 

“Kate Bishop, not that it’s any of your business.” She looks back and forth between them, deducing something. “Did you two...,” she asks, trailing off and raising one eyebrow like the judgy teen she is. 

“Kate!” Clint yelps. 

“You’re not acting like he’s a stranger but you don’t know his name and you’re blushing,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a baby.” 

“That’s none of your business,” Clint hisses. She rolls her eyes again. 

“Whatever. I’m gonna be in the cereal aisle when you’re done making heart eyes at Mr Muscles. Try not to strain something.” With that she flounces off, and Winter stares after her in amusement. 

“Cute kid you got there,” he says. 

“She’s my cousin,” Clint replies, feeling a little strangled. “Not my, well, I mean, I’m her legal guardian, but she definitely didn’t get any of that from me.” 

Winter chuckles and looks at him. “She seems like a good kid. Protective of you, and smart.” 

“Get his number!” Kate calls from the next aisle. 

“Oh my god,” Clint mutters, putting a hand over his eyes. Winter laughs. 

“I have to get back to my shopping or my milk will go bad. It was nice to see you though. See you around, cutie.” Winter winks at him and turns around, walking away while Clint stares wistfully after him. Kate pops back up next to him. 

“What just happened?” She asks. 

“I have no idea.”

~~

They meet again a few days later, on the subway. Clint slumps into a seat in a nearly empty car at three in the morning and immediately zones out. When someone sits down across from him, it takes two full stops for him to actually look at the person and realize that it’s Winter. 

“Oh.” 

He doesn’t realize it’s him who spoke until Winter drops his eyes from the ads above his head and focuses on his face. 

“Oh, hey,” Winter says with a smile, and something in Clint clenches up tight. Winter’s hair is a little ruffled, the edges catching in the right corner of his mouth. There’s glitter in his hair and on his face, some on his bare shoulders and black tank top and cargo pants. His ever present combat boots are glitter free. He’s a little sweaty and looks tired, slumped into his seat just like Clint is. He’s beautiful. 

“Hey,” Clint says in return. “You uh...heading home from work?” 

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” Clint knows he looks nowhere near as good as Winter. There’s smoke in his hair and dirt on his face, and he’s wearing the same rumpled jeans and t-shirt he first wore to work two days ago. 

“Rough day?” Winter asks sympathetically. 

“I went to work on Friday morning and haven’t been home since,” Clint says. Which, since it’s now very early on Sunday, says a lot. 

“Wow. What about your uh...Kate?” Winter asks. Clint shrugs. 

“She’s fifteen, and I’m pretty sure she can take care of herself better than I can. One of our neighbors is a single mom, she checks in sometimes to make sure Kate’s doing okay. Hasn’t set anything on fire or resorted to only eating ice cream and Doritos.” 

Winter chuckles and smirks like he remembers those days himself. “Sounds familiar,” he confirms a second later. “If it wasn’t for my roommate I’d be a mess. At least, at home.” 

“Yeah, me too. Kate is the one who makes chore lists and enforces them. I try to tell her it should be the other way around, but she just says things like ‘you haven’t cleaned the mud off your shoes for two weeks even though you said you’d do it the next day, you can’t be trusted’. I can’t really fault her logic there.” 

“That seems a little harsh.” 

“Well, you met her. You’ve seen how…”

“Blunt?” Winter offers. 

“I was gonna say straightforward but that works too.” 

“Well, I think you clean up nice enough.” 

Clint snorts. “You’ve met me three times now, once in my sweats and now I’m covered in dirt and wearing two day old clothes.” 

“That just tells me you like to be comfortable and aren’t afraid to work hard and get dirty,” Winter says, looking at him intently. Clint pauses. 

“Wait, are you flirting with me?” 

Winter smirks. “Is it working?” 

Clint rubs the back of his neck. He can feel himself blushing. “Why me? I’m not anything special.” 

“Well, you know I think you’re cute. Isn’t that enough?” 

Clint looks at him doubtfully. “Not really. I mean, I guess my ex-wife thought so too, at first, but that didn’t make her willing to stay when I didn’t meet her expectations.” 

There’s a clamoring as a dozen tourists enter the car they’re in. Clint moves to the edge of his seat to cross the car to Winter, but then hesitates, unsure of his welcome. Winter slides into the seat next to him before the tourists can come between them, tucking his backpack under his seat. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, turning to glare at a tourist who knocks his bag into Clint’s knees. The man quickly scurries away. One of Winter’s arms has fallen across Clint’s shoulders as he gets settled and it’s all he can think about. Clint mourns the loss when Winter takes his arm back. 

They watch the tourists cluster together at the end of the train car. Two of them had tried sitting next to and across from Clint, but Winter glared them away until they huddled with their group. 

After a minute, Winter leans in, keeping his voice low so the tourists won’t overhear. “I’ve seen enough to know you’re not a bad person,” Winter says honestly. “At the club you followed all the rules, acted like a real gentleman, you tipped well and treated me with respect, which not many people do. And at the store the other day, you didn’t use my stage name and wouldn’t ask for my real name because that would be invading my privacy.” Clint’s mouth might be hanging open, he’s so surprised. “I’m really good at reading people,” Winter adds. “The only time you touched me without me guiding your hands, you grabbed my hips, which I’d already shown you was an okay place to touch. And I really liked it.”

“You did?” Clint asks. 

“Yeah. I saw you walk in. Admittedly your looks didn’t really grab my attention, it was your manners that won me over.” Winter smiles at him, and the whole thing feels slightly unreal to Clint, like it’s just a product of an overactive imagination and not enough sleep. He bites his lip, trying to prove he’s not just dreaming. 

“Listen—it’s Clint, right?”

“Yeah?” 

“Okay, good. Listen, Clint. I know you don't have any reason to believe me, it’s not like we know each other. But I would like the chance to get to know you, and I think you would like that too.” 

Clint rubs the back of his neck and then lets his hand fall into his lap. “Well...you’re not wrong.”

Winter beams at him. “Great. So, you want to go get coffee or something when we get to Brooklyn? Where are you headed, anyway?” 

“Bed-Stuy, the Kingston-Throop station.” 

“Really? Me too!” Winter says. A tourist turns to look at them and Winter glares until they look away again. “There’s a late night/early morning coffee shop near there that does really good hot chocolate cookies.” 

“You mean the Brewed Awakenings cafe?” Clint asks. 

“Yeah, you know it?” Winter asks. 

“I might be addicted to their Mexican brownies,” Clint admits. 

“So, do you want to go there?” Winter asks, looking so hopeful Clint can’t find it in himself to say no. 

“Sure, why not?” 

“Well don’t sound so excited,” Winter teases. Clint ducks his head sheepishly. 

“Sorry. I must be more tired than I thought,” he says. 

“We could put it off if you want, until after you’ve had a chance to sleep.” 

“No, it’s okay. I want to go.” 

“You sure?” Winter asks. 

Clint pauses before he answers. Is he sure? He’s really tired, and he can almost hear his bed calling to him. But Winter looks really good with the glitter on his bare shoulders, and his tight black tank top. He also looks really cute biting his lip and looking at Clint hopefully the way he is now. Something is telling him not to give up this chance, because he might not get another one. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Clint says, finding a smile for him. Winter grins back. 

“Great, okay.” They just smile at each other for a minute before another tourist approaches. 

“Um, excuse me? Why are you covered in glitter?” 

Winter rolls his eyes and turns to answer. “Because I’m g—I, I got it at work,” he stammers. Clint glances over to see a young teenage girl standing there, and when he looks back he can almost see Winter’s thoughts on his face, the _Oh crap she’s just a kid_ realization as he censors himself. 

“Where do you work?” The girl asks. 

“At a craft store,” Clint answers when Winter can’t come up with something. “Someone spilled a bottle of glitter, and that stuff gets everywhere.” 

“I’ve found some in my teeth before,” Winter confirms. “What are you doing here, kid? Isn’t it kinda late for you?” 

The girl sighs and rolls her eyes before jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the adults clustered at the other end of the car. “They keep talking about how excited they are to see the Empire State Building and I’m like. It’s just a building. Why do we have to go see it at three in the morning? ‘Oh because it’ll be so pretty with all the lights against the dark sky’.” 

“It’s not even open at this time of night,” Clint says. “You could only look at it from the ground, not go up to the top.” 

“That’s what they want to do,” she says emphatically. “Just stand on the street and look at it.” 

Winter’s mouth falls open. “Wow.” He pauses and frowns. “Didn’t you get on at Penn Station?” 

“Um, I think so?” 

“And you’re going to the Empire State Building?” 

“Yes?” The girl frowns at him. 

“Oh, honey. You’re on the wrong train. This is southbound, we’re headed to Brooklyn,” Winter says. 

The girl stares, and then sighs and rolls her eyes again. “Of course we are. Can you tell me how to get there?” 

Winter glances up at the map above the doors. “Sure thing. We’re coming up on the 23rd street station. Get off there, circle around to the northbound line, and go back to Penn Station. Get off and leave the station. There isn’t a train that runs that way. Unfortunately the buses don’t run this late, but you’re a large enough group you should be okay, since you’ll have to walk. Get on 34th, and you’ll be at 34th and 8th. You need to walk down 34th until you get to 6th street, turn right on 6th, then turn left on 33rd, and the entrance will be most of the way down the block, on your left. If you keep going down 34th you’ll end up at the back entrance, you can’t get in that way, in case you’re still around when they open at eight am.” 

The girl quickly writes that down on her phone, then looks up. “Thanks. This bunch of weirdos are useless at directions.” 

“No problem, hon. Good luck,” Winter says sincerely. 

The girl looks at Clint. “You have a good boyfriend. You should keep him,” she says before she turns and goes back to her group. Clint’s sure his mouth is hanging open. Winter chuckles next to him. 

“Perceptive little thing,” he mutters as the girl starts arguing with the adults, pointing from Winter to her phone and then to the subway map. There’s some muttering and frowns and gestures, but when the train stops, they all get off, leaving Clint and Winter alone again. Winter sighs and slumps in his seat, leaning into Clint’s shoulder. “I hate people,” he says. Clint snorts. 

“You live in the largest city in the country, and you hate people?” He asks, looking down on the top of Winter’s hair. This close, he can smell the sweat on him, and also a hint of roses that must be his shampoo. 

“Okay, I hate _tourists_. Natives are mostly okay,” Winter corrects. 

“Well, good thing I’m not a tourist then,” Clint says. Winter looks up at him and oh, Clint really likes this angle. 

“I think I’d be able to make an exception for you,” he says softly. “But then I get the feeling you weren’t born in New York either.” 

“You’re right, I wasn’t. I was born in Iowa.” 

“Wow. I was born in Indiana. Now I know where you get your charm,” Winter teases. 

The rest of the ride, they talk about where they grew up, and a little about their families. Clint briefly says that his parents died when he was a kid and that he and his brother were separated by the foster system, not really wanting to get into the gritty details. Winter tells him about his sister Becca, who’s twenty-four and currently at college. Clint tells him about when Kate came to live with him, and that gets them off the train and all the way to the coffee shop. Winter looks up at the menu board and then looks at him thoughtfully. 

“Can I order for you?” he asks. 

“What?” Clint glances at the girl manning the register and then at Winter. 

“I just would like to. If I order something you don’t like, you can change it, but I want to see if I can guess your tastes right,” he says. 

“...Alright,” Clint says. Winter smiles and steps forward. 

“Can I get two of your hot chocolate floats, a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, and a dozen of whatever cookies you have left?” Winter orders. He glances back at Clint to make sure it’s okay, and Clint nods, surprised. 

“The sandwich will take a while,” the girl says. 

“That’s okay, we can wait,” Winter says. He hands over money when the girl gives him his total, and then he drops his change in the tip jar. The girl gets them their drinks, hot chocolate in a fudge-lined glass with a scoop of vanilla ice cream in it, and they retreat to a corner table. “I tend to come in here a lot when I get off work,” he says, shimmying his shoulders into the back of the armchair he’s settled in. Clint stares as he wedges his much simpler hard chair into the corner so his back is covered. After a minute, he becomes aware of Winter staring at him expectantly. 

“Sorry, what?” He says. 

Winter chuckles. “Daydreaming a bit there?” He asks. Clint blushes and hides behind his drink, which turns out to be really good if he can avoid sticking his nose in the ice cream. “As I was saying, this is one of the best times of day to come in. Nobody else is here, the baker’s started up in the back so it always smells good, and I can clear out whatever cookies they still have left. Sometimes I even get fresh stuff if the baker has a batch turn wonky. It’s really nice. Do you ever come in this late?” 

Clint glances at the large clock on the wall. “Not usually this hour,” he says ruefully. “It’s usually either closer to midnight or more like five, when sunrise is on the way.” 

“It’s weird how we’ve lived so close, had similar schedules, but never ran into each other before,” Winter muses, licking a bit of fudge from his lip. 

“Yeah...I guess. But there are eight million people in the city, I’m sure we pass the same few hundred every day without noticing.” 

“Mm, true.” 

The girl from the counter brings over the sandwich, helpfully cut in half, and a paper bag of cookies. “Can I get anything else for you?” 

“I think we’re good, thanks,” Winter says with a smile. The girl smiles back and returns to the counter. “I love their cookies. I take them to work with me sometimes and they disappear in seconds.” 

“That good, huh?” 

Winter groans. “Oh my god, _yes_. You haven’t had any?” 

“Well, I did say I was addicted to the brownies,” Clint says sheepishly. “I haven’t come in often enough to stray from those.” 

“You have to get a hot chocolate cookie next time they have them when you come in, okay? Promise me,” Winter says seriously, only the smile on his face revealing his humour. 

“Okay, okay. I promise,” Clint says, matching his smile. 

“Good.” Winter leans in. “You’ve got cream on your cheek, let me get that for you.” Clint holds still and lets Winter wipe it off with his thumb. They make eye contact, and it seems like the moment slows until Winter slowly leans back and wipes his hand on a napkin. 

“Thanks,” Clint says, blushing. 

Winter smiles at him and it makes Clint feel like he has butterflies inside him. “No problem,” he says. 

Another employee enters the stop as they’re finishing their food, and shortly after, the morning crowd starts to shuffle in, prompting both of them to check the time. By unspoken agreement, they carefully stack their dishes together so it’s less work for the staff and slip out the door between a pair of businessmen and a woman in her fifties. They wander down a few blocks until Winter’s feet turn to take him down another road and Clint doesn’t. They stop and stare at each other sheepishly for a moment. 

“Guess this is it,” Winter says, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Clint replies. He takes a deep breath. “I had a really good time.” 

Winter grins. “Yeah? Me too. Does that mean you’ll want to do it again sometime?” 

Honestly? He really does. “I think I’d like that.” 

“Great! So uh, can I have your number? I can text you in the morning once we’ve both gotten some sleep.” Winter looks hopeful, and Clint doesn’t have the heart to turn him down, just nodding. Winter pulls his phone out and hands it to Clint, open to a new contact page. He fumbles to put in his number, squints to make sure it’s right, then hands it back. 

“I have to get going or Kate will start calling the police to go find me,” Clint says, reluctant to leave. 

“I need to get home too or my roommate will flip out. But I’ll see you later, yeah?” Winter asks. 

“Yeah,” Clint says, nodding. 

Winter grins and turns to walk away. Before he gets farther than five steps, he turns and looks at Clint, who still hasn’t moved. 

“Oh and, Clint? Call me Bucky.” 

~~

When Clint gets home, he finds Kate wearing a circle in their living room floor. He perches on the back of the couch and lets her rant and pace around him for a few minutes before drawing her into a hug. 

“Sorry I made you worry,” he mutters into her hair. She clings to his shirt for a minute, then punches him solidly in the ribs. 

“Don’t do it again!” She orders, eyes red-rimmed when she finally looks at him. 

“Sorry,” he says again, holding his side and grimacing. “You know that guy we ran into at the store the other day? I ran into him on the subway, and we went for coffee and lost track of time.” 

“So, wait. You’re saying you’re home late because you were on a date? Looking like that?” She gestures at his whole self. 

“It wasn’t a date,” he protests. 

Kate rolls her eyes. “Please, he was clearly into you, even if you won’t tell me what happened between you.” Kate raises an eyebrow. 

Clint deflates and rubs a hand across his face. “It’s complicated, okay?” 

“I can tell that you like him. It would be good for you to date someone.” 

Clint glances up at her. “How can you tell?”

“Clint, you were _blushing_ in the grocery store. And.” She pauses, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “I haven’t seen you smile like that at anyone since Bobbi.” 

“...Oh.” Clint swallows and stares at Kate’s hand. She reaches up and wraps her arms around his shoulders. He slings his arms around her waist and hides his face in her shoulder. 

“It’ll be okay,” she murmurs. “You’ll find happiness at some point. If a sweet guy like you can’t find someone, there’s no hope for me.” 

“Don’t say that about yourself,” he admonishes weakly. 

Kate pulls back and smiles at him. “Come on. You need to take a shower and go to bed. It won’t look so bleak in daylight.” She herds him off the couch and to the bathroom, standing there expectantly until he starts to take his shirt off. She gets a set of pajamas for him and sets them on the counter once he’s hidden behind the shower curtain. 

“Clint? I’m gonna go back to bed for a while. You get some sleep and don’t worry about it, okay?” She says. 

Clint pokes his head around the curtain, mustering up a smile. “Okay. Thanks, Katie-Kate. Sleep well.” 

“You too,” she says before she slips out of the bathroom. 

Clint hurries to finish his shower, feeling the weariness dragging at his limbs. He’s barely dry before he pulls on his pajamas and heads to his room. He finds the sheets turned down, and falls into bed gratefully. He’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

~~

Clint and Winter— _Bucky,_ and isn’t _that_ an interesting name—don’t see each other again until Tuesday. Clint’s sitting on the train at half an hour to midnight, zoning out, when someone sits next to him and purrs “Hey, stranger,” in his ear. Clint nearly jumps right out of the train car, except it’s moving, and he reaches automatically for his gun—which is locked up safe at work and no longer on his hip, thank goodness. When he turns, Bucky is laughing so hard he’s wheezing, clutching his sides and falling over on the bench seats. He didn’t see Clint’s reflex, then. Good. 

“Sorry! Sorry, sweetheart, it’s just me. It’s just me, come here, I’m sorry I startled you,” Bucky says, pushing himself up with his elbow and reaching out a coaxing hand to Clint, fingers curling in. Clint slowly moves closer even though he feels like he should be having a heart attack. “Sorry I made you go for your gun.” 

Oh. 

Maybe he did notice. 

“You…” Clint huffs, not sure what he’s trying to say. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Gimme your hands, cutie.” 

Clint holds out his hands, and Bucky draws him closer and tugs him down into the seat, then keeps Clint’s hands in his lap, tucked between Bucky’s own. 

“Sorry,” Bucky says again. “I’ll make sure you see me coming next time. I must still be in overly-flirtatious work mode.” Clint takes a moment to really look at him, and he does look sweaty and disheveled like before. His tank top today is white with...silver sequins? His face is flushed with warmth and laughter and he’s smiling so bright it makes something inside Clint ache. 

“Next time?” Clint asks. 

“Yeah, next time. I’m not done with you yet,” Bucky says, lifting one of Clint’s hands to his mouth. He kisses the scarred knuckles and tucks Clint’s hand against his cheek and _oh_ , he hasn’t felt butterflies in a long time, but somehow Bucky brings them back. 

~~

Somehow it keeps happening like that. Every few days they meet up on the subway, either when Clint gets off late or Bucky gets off early, and then they go for a no-coffee not-date. True to his word, Bucky always makes sure Clint sees him coming before he sits down, and before long Clint starts to look for him instead of zoning out. If Bucky doesn’t get on a few stops after him, he knows not to wait. They trade brief details of their schedules (“I have Sunday and Monday nights off, and alternating Thursdays because that’s Ladies Night,” Bucky tells him) so they know when they might see each other. Aside from that it isn’t planned, but Clint finds himself hopeful every night that Bucky will find him on the train. After seven of these not-dates, Clint’s taken by surprise when Bucky leans in and kisses him outside the coffee shop, soft and sweet and just a little sticky. 

“What was that for?” Clint blurts out as soon as it ends, even though he wants to lean back in and lose himself in Bucky’s mouth. 

“What do you mean, what was that for?” Bucky asks, looking amused. “I’m not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” Clint repeats, still internally rocking with his surprise. 

“...Aren't we boyfriends?” Bucky says, looking less sure. “I know we haven't talked about it officially but, I just thought…I mean, we’ve been on all these dates...”

“I was, um.” Clint scratches the back of his neck, ducking his head. “I was kind of convincing myself they weren’t dates? Mainly because I didn’t want to get my hopes up.” When Bucky doesn’t say anything, Clint glances up and finds him looking blank in a way Clint’s never seen him, his normally highly expressive face still and neutral. Clint shoves his hands in his pockets and shuffles his feet. “I just...u-um…” 

“So, you’re into me? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Flushed, Clint can do nothing but nod.

Bucky is silent for a moment, and then opens himself back up. He smiles easily, and asks, “Do you want to be my boyfriend, then?” 

“What, really?” Clint asks. 

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve already been dating for, what, three weeks now? You like me, I like you, you’re really sweet, and you haven’t made a fuss about my job yet. I think it looks promising,” Bucky says. 

“Okay,” Clint says with a smile. “Wait, ‘yet’?” 

Bucky shrugs and glances away. “I’ve dated people before that had an issue with me being a stripper, even though I always told them about it upfront. And that’s if they didn’t meet me at the club.” 

“They’re jerks,” Clint says hotly. 

Bucky grins and leans in to kiss him, curling a hand around the back of Clint’s neck so he can’t help but melt into it. He tilts his forehead against Clint’s when their lips part. “You should come home with me, meet my roommate.” 

“Your roommate?” Clint repeats dazedly. 

“I think you two would get along really well. You said Kate’s at a friend’s house this weekend, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So, come home with me.” Bucky tugs on Clint’s hands with a playful smile. 

Clint takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Okay.” He nods. 

Bucky grins and kisses him again, brief and sweet, and then wraps one of his hands firmly around one of Clint’s and leads him away from the coffee shop. Clint pays attention to the streets they walk down so he can find his way back home later, until Bucky comes to a stop in front of a building that looks oddly familiar. Bucky leads him inside and up to the third floor, apartment seven. The number sits a little crooked on the door, and Clint squints at it even as Bucky opens the door. 

“Steve? You up?” he calls at a normal volume. 

“Yeah, I’m awake. In the kitchen,” a deep voice says back. Clint stumbles as he enters the apartment, because he _definitely_ knows that voice. Last he heard, it was shouting at him. 

Bucky reaches back to steady him. “I brought someone with me. Are you decent?” He teases. 

“Just for that, I’m not making you coffee,” Steve says as they round the wall to the kitchen. 

Clint freezes when he sees the tiny blond sitting at the table, wearing oversized pajamas and clutching a mug in his hands. Neither of them seem to notice, Bucky going over to ruffle his hair and kiss his forehead. 

“How was your night?” He asks. 

“It was okay. Peggy’s still asleep in my room, so don’t go making a ton of noise,” Steve says. 

“Oooh, Peggy’s here? And your night was just ‘okay’?” Bucky teases. Steve elbows him in the gut and glances pointedly at Clint. “Oh, right. Clint, this is my roommate and best friend, Steve. Steve, this is Clint.” 

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Clint says, giving an awkward wave before shoving his hand in his pocket. “Bucky’s told me a lot about you.” 

Clint can practically see the recognition crossing Steve’s face as he gets angry. 

“ _You_ ,” Steve hisses. 

“Um. Yeah. Me,” Clint says nervously. 

Bucky glances between them in confusion. “Uh, what’s going on?”

Steve’s already out of his chair, mug forgotten and fist raised, telegraphing his moves so clearly Clint has no trouble catching the fist aimed for his face. He has Steve turned around in an instant and is halfway through yanking his arm up behind his back before he realizes what he’s doing and lets him go with a little push. Steve swings around again, angry, but Bucky catches him around the waist and hauls him back before he can do anything. 

“Steve! What’s the matter with you?” Bucky demands, keeping a tight grip on his friend. 

“That’s the shithead that broke into our apartment last month!” Steve snarls, struggling to get free. Clint plasters his back to the wall, keeping his hands behind him. 

“What are you talking about?” Bucky shoves Steve back into his chair and pins him there with his hands on his shoulders. 

“When that SWAT team broke in, he was the asshole leading them!”

“I’m sorry,” Clint says, freezing with the realization that he almost put Steve through his own kitchen table. “I’m sorry, I’m just—gonna go.” 

“Clint,” Bucky says, looking up at him. 

Clint swallows and looks away. “Sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry.” 

He quickly finds his way out of the kitchen, Bucky’s “Clint, wait!” nearly drowned out by Steve’s “Yeah, that’s right, run away!” 

“Shut up, Steve!” Bucky says. 

Clint tries not to slam the door behind him when he leaves the apartment, hearing Bucky demand, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” before it closes. 

He runs all the way home. 


	2. Chapter 2

Kate comes home later that morning with a clatter and a swear as she trips over the mess Clint left in the entryway. He had dropped his bag, coat, and shoes as soon as he came in and gone to hide in his room, too overwhelmed by the day to deal with it. 

“Clint?” She calls. She swears a few more times and kicks something before coming to find him, pausing in the door to his room. He wonders briefly about the picture he makes, lying facedown on his bed, arms wrapped around his pillow with his face pressed into it, fully dressed in the dim light peeking around his blackout curtains. “Clint, are you okay?” Kate comes closer and clambers up on the bed, reaching over to brush a hand through his hair. 

“Bucky asked me to be his boyfriend,” Clint mumbles, turning his head just enough that he’s not speaking directly into the pillow. 

“That’s great!” She says enthusiastically. “...What’s wrong?” 

“His roommate hates me.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Remember about a month ago, I told you someone sent us on a prank raid and we burst into an innocent person’s apartment?” 

“Yeah, and you caught him and his partner in a ‘compromising position’?” She asks, complete with finger quotes. Clint doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to connect the dots. “Oh my god, that was _him_?” 

“Bucky’s roommate, yeah.” 

“Well, shit.” Normally he would scold her for the language, but he just doesn’t have it in him right now. “What happened?” 

“He tried to hit me, I nearly broke his arm, and I left.” 

“Clint.” Kate sighs. “You have to let that go. This training is part of your job, you’re _supposed_ to be good at it, to act without thinking, that’s how you stay alive and keep people safe.” 

“Not when I’m using it to hurt people.” 

Kate climbs off of the bed and pulls on his shoulder, pushing him down on his back to frown at him. “You have to let that go,” she repeats. “It was six years ago.” 

“Yeah, when you were nine. You were just a kid, Kate, and I was supposed to take care of you, and I hurt you.” 

“It was my fault for startling you out of a nightmare. My arm healed, and I’m fine now. You cried more than I did.” Kate rolls her eyes and grabs him by the shirt, hauling him up. “Come on, I’m not letting you cry here in your room, come watch Ancient Aliens with me and you can tell me what happened.” 

Clint shuffles after her, clutching his pillow to his chest. He sits on the couch where she directs him while she searches for the remote, cuddling up to his side once she finds it and dragging their favorite blanket, soft and hideous and aptly named The Ugly Blanket, across their laps. Kate gives him an encouraging look as she turns on the TV and starts flipping through channels. 

“Bucky kissed me and asked me to be his boyfriend. Then he asked me to come meet his roommate, said he thought we’d get along really well. But...I recognized his building, his apartment, and then his roommate. He didn’t recognize me until I spoke, and he got so _angry_. Bucky had to hold him back so he wouldn’t keep trying to hit me. And I just...ran away,” he says softly. 

Kate looks at him sympathetically. “You’re scared of yourself sometimes, I think.” 

Clint just hides his face behind the pillow and stares at the TV screen, with no idea what’s actually on it. Kate sighs. 

“Get some sleep, Clint. You can text him after you’ve had some rest. I’ll help you if you don’t know what to say.” She tucks the blanket closer around him. 

Clint nods, even though he still feels too keyed up to sleep, and reaches out to wrap Kate’s hand in his own. She gives him a comforting squeeze and a smile that he sees out of the corner of his eye. 

When he wakes up later, he’s not sure what time it is or how long he’s been asleep. He’s stretched out on the couch with the blanket tucked around him, the TV off, and no Kate in sight. He isn’t sure what woke him, the curtains in the living room doing a fairly good job of blocking the daylight, until his phone buzzes on the coffee table. He reaches out for it, fumbling when it almost falls off the edge of the table when it buzzes again under his fingers, but he manages to slip it into his palm and bring it close enough to squint at it. 

_You have four messages from Bucky_

Clint sets the phone down on his chest and stares up at the ceiling. It buzzes a fourth time and then goes still. He doesn’t really want to look at them, not after what happened last night, but he knows what Kate would say, so he picks the phone back up after a few minutes and opens the messages. 

_“Hey_

_“I wanted to apologize for Steve. He can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, I try to keep him out of trouble but it doesn’t always work, he’s a litle spitfire. *rage emoji* Trying to punch you was wrong of him, it wasn’t your fault. I’ve_

_“had a talk with him about it, and he’s agreed to apologize next time you two meet. I really hope you two can get along. I would like to see you today if you’re not busy so we can talk about what went down._

_“Anyway, I hope you managed to get some sleep last night and that I’m not waking you up. Call or text me, send a carrier pigeon or a message in a bottle. I’ll be waiting to hear from you <3”_

Clint lowers the phone again, then sits up and looks around the apartment. “Kate?” He calls. 

The bathroom door opens and her head pops out, half of her hair brushed and the other half still wild wet curls from towel-drying it. “Yeah?” 

“Is it too early to ask Natasha for help?” he asks, holding up his phone. 

“It’s afternoon, Clint. If you’re awake, she’s awake.” Kate disappears back into the bathroom, and Clint gets up and heads across the hall to Natasha’s apartment, dragging The Ugly Blanket with him. When she opens the door, he holds his phone out wordlessly. She takes it, thumbing through the texts and raising an eyebrow. 

“You should text him back,” she says, handing the phone back. “Ask him to meet you for lunch at...Toni’s.” 

“Isn’t it kind of late for lunch?” Clint asks, staring at the messages. 

“It’s three in the afternoon. Text him. The worst he can do is say no and reschedule. Also I reserve the right to mock both of you for this.” She smirks at him and closes the door in his face. 

Clint bites his lip and stares at his phone for another minute before taking a deep breath and tapping out a message. 

_“Do you know Toni’s Pizzeria? We could meet there for lunch?”_

_“Yeah I know Toni’s! Half an hour?”_ Bucky responds immediately. 

_“Sure.”_

_“Great, see you then cutie *blowing kiss emoji*”_

Clint lets out a breath and then sniffs himself and hurries back into his apartment. “Kate, let me in the bathroom, I need to shower!” 

Half an hour later, Clint waits impatiently on the sidewalk in front of Toni’s, fidgeting in place as he looks for Bucky. Bucky jogs around the corner, wearing a hoodie, jeans, and tennis shoes for once, his hair kept out of his face with a headband. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Bucky greets him with a kiss. “I had to shower first.” 

“Me too,” Clint says, brushing a hand over his still-drying hair. Bucky smiles and ruffles it, flinging water droplets everywhere. 

“Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go get some food.” Bucky holds the door open for Clint and follows him inside. They get seated at a corner table by the window, the waiter gets them their drinks and then leaves them alone to look at the menu. Clint finds himself staring at Bucky instead. His face is clear of the makeup Clint didn’t realize he wore until he saw him without it. There’s a small scar near Bucky’s mouth on the left side, and another just under his right eye. His eyes look softer and more of a faded blue today. He smiles when he catches Clint looking and points to the menu. 

“What are you thinking, classic pepperoni? Or veggie?” He asks. Clint wrinkles his nose, and Bucky laughs. “What, not a fan of veggies?” 

“I have a...mixed relationship with them. I don’t like them too crunchy or too soft.” 

“Okay. Maybe another time.” Bucky looks pointedly at his menu until Clint picks it up. They eventually decide to share a pepperoni between them. Once the waiter brings their food they don’t talk much, and Clint can feel the anxiety welling in him until he can’t eat any more for the lump in his throat. Bucky seems to notice because he puts down his pizza and wipes his hands on a napkin. 

“I love Steve like a brother,” he starts off, voice serious. “But that just means I know better than anyone when he’s being a stubborn idiot, and this is one of those times. What happened was not your fault, and he’s not really angry at you, he’s embarrassed. That comes across as anger because he’s a tiny little rage machine, but his girlfriend Peggy talked some sense into him. She doesn’t hold it against you that you saw them like that. Eventually Steve will calm down and see sense.” 

“What about the other guy that was with them? Steve’s...boyfriend?” Clint asks slowly. 

“Sam? The black guy?” 

“Yeah.” 

“He’s kind of upset, and kind of mad, yeah, but that’s directed at whoever’s fault it was, not at you. It hasn’t affected the relationship between the three of them at all, except Peggy’s been rolling her eyes so much I’m worried they’re gonna fall out of her head one of these days.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

“She has the patience of a saint, but even Mother Teresa had to get tired sometime,” Bucky says with a shrug, popping a slice of pepperoni in his mouth and licking the sauce off his thumb. Clint’s eyes follow the motion. Bucky’s lips curl up in a smirk, and Clint glances up to his eyes, which are fixed on him. 

Immediately looking back down again, he adjusts the silverware next to his plate. Bucky reaches across the table and sets his hand on top of Clint’s. 

“It’s okay to look at me, honey. I don’t mind,” Bucky says. He sounds like he’s teasing, and when Clint looks back up, Bucky’s got a smile on his face. Clint carefully turns his hand over and wraps his fingers around Bucky’s. Bucky grins at him. He picks up his pizza again, letting the rest of the tension fade, and then gestures at Clint with it after he’s taken a bite. 

“So. What’s your favorite animal?” He asks around his mouthful, and Clint can’t help but smile. It’s endearing, if only because he knows he does the same thing and Kate hates it. 

“Dog,” he answers immediately. 

“Reasoning?” Bucky follows with. 

“Man’s best friend?” Clint offers with a shrug, going back to his own food. It’s easy, after that, talking about pets and people, the TV shows they like and the women in their lives. Clint doesn’t say anything about Bobbi, that wound still too painful to air out in public like this, but Bucky doesn’t mention any exes either, so it’s okay. 

They end up ordering dessert to share, something with chocolate, and they split the bill before wandering outside. Bucky looks at him thoughtfully and then holds his hand out. Clint only hesitates a second before wrapping his hand around it. 

“I don't want to split up yet. Can we go somewhere?” Bucky asks. 

“I think there’s a park not too far from here,” Clint says. 

“Perfect. I can walk off the calories,” Bucky says. Clint eyes him. 

“Do you really need to?” 

Bucky pauses, and Clint realizes he might’ve stepped into forbidden territory. 

“I shouldn’t have asked that,” Clint says quickly. “It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just trying to think of how to answer.” Bucky gives his hand a squeeze even as he frowns thoughtfully at the sidewalk. “Well, part of it’s necessary for my job,” he says after a minute. “If I gained weight, a _significant_ amount of weight, I would lose a large portion of my clients. I could possibly gain more, but probably not as much as I would lose. So I would lose my position at R &R. 

“Another part is that I’m very in the habit of eating healthy. My parents were big fans of it, and Steve has a lot of allergies so I’ve learned how to make things that work with his allergies that are also healthy _and_ taste good. If I let him, Steve would eat potato chips all day. I’m not a complete stickler for it, we do go out to eat sometimes and you’ve seen how much of a sugar addict I am, but foods with a lot of grease like pizza or french fries aren’t good for anybody. 

“Plus, all that weight would go straight to my thighs, and they’re big enough already,” Bucky adds jokingly. 

Clint glances down reflexively. “I like your thighs.” 

Bucky stops, startled, and it pulls on Clint’s arm. “You do?” 

Clint blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah? I mean they’re uh...they’re nice.” 

“Nice, huh?” Bucky says, stepping into his space. 

“Really nice.” Clint meets his eyes, watching the way they crinkle up with a smile before darting down to Clint’s mouth. He licks his lips and Bucky leans in, kissing him. Clint lets himself get lost in it, discovering he has to tilt his chin up just a little to meet Bucky’s mouth. Bucky curls his free hand around Clint’s neck, thumb rubbing his jaw, and Clint moans and steps closer so they’re pressed together. When they separate, they don’t go far, Bucky staring at him with eyes like storm clouds, dark and intense. 

“I don’t think I really want to go to the park,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of Clint’s mouth and then trailing kisses along his cheek to his ear. “Can we go to your place?” 

“Kate’s there,” Clint says, wondering when he started clutching Bucky’s shirt. 

“That’s okay. We can cuddle on the couch and maybe make out a little when she’s not looking.” 

Clint can’t find a reason to argue. It’s not like he thinks very hard about it, though. “Okay,” he says breathlessly. Bucky smiles at him and it makes him want to melt. 

Their journey back to Clint’s apartment is full of pauses where they just have to stop and kiss again, Bucky tugging Clint into alleyways to push him up against a wall or lean against the wall himself and pull Clint close. The walk takes twice as long as it normally would. When they get there, Clint drops his keys twice, first fumbling them out of his pocket, and then again when he hears Bucky laugh. When they finally get inside, Kate is sitting at the kitchen table, watching them expectantly, one eyebrow raised in a spookily accurate imitation of Natasha. 

“Oh look, it’s Mr Handsome,” she says. 

Bucky waves at her over Clint’s shoulder. “Hi, Kate.” 

“Hi James.” Kate eyes him with a hint of suspicion, and it makes Clint worry. 

“Just Bucky is fine.” 

“Okay, Just Bucky,” Kate says. “I don’t know what you two are planning, but I have homework to do, so try to keep it down?” 

“Don’t worry, I just plan to take over your couch and your Clint for a while,” Bucky says, wrapping his arms around Clint’s waist and making him go warm all over. 

Kate shrugs. “As long as you don’t bother me, I don’t really care.” 

Before Clint can voice a protest that they won’t be bothering her, Bucky gives her a thumbs up and nudges Clint along to the living room. Clint shakes himself and takes the lead since Bucky’s never been here before, heading to the couch and scooping up the TV remote from the floor on the way. He hesitates in front of the couch and busies himself with turning on the TV, Bucky still standing right behind him. 

“So uh...how do we…?” Clint gestures helplessly. 

Bucky smiles and moves around him, settling with his back leaning on the arm of the couch and his legs stretched across the cushions. “We can cuddle, right? Come here, cutie.” 

Clint carefully kneels on the couch before leaning over, Bucky guiding him until he’s lying on Bucky’s chest, one arm tucked under his back and his head on his chest. His left ear ends up right over Bucky’s heart and he can feel it beating. Bucky combs his fingers through Clint’s hair and Clint sighs, letting all the tension drain out of him until the remote is dangling from his fingertips.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Dog Cops,” Clint suggests, inflection raising at the end.

“Cool,” Bucky says, and Clint takes that as confirmation to turn on one of the DVR'd episodes he hasn’t gotten around to seeing yet. He sets the remote on the coffee table, cuddles closer, and barely gets halfway through the episode before he falls asleep. 

~~

Clint wakes up comfortably warm but with something hard and thin under his head. He blinks his eyes open and lifts up slightly to see that he’s been sleeping on Bucky’s collarbone. Bucky has his head tilted back on the arm of the couch, snoring softly. One of his arms is wrapped around Clint’s back, the TV has been turned off, and The Ugly Blanket is tucked around them both. Clint’s pretty sure he has Kate to thank for that. He shifts down so he can put his head on something other than Bucky’s collarbone and that, unfortunately, wakes Bucky up. The snoring stops and he lifts his head, blinking at the room blearily before he looks down at Clint and smiles. Clint swears his heart stops. 

“Hey,” Bucky says, and his voice is sleep-rough and deep, “Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” 

“Me neither,” Clint says with a small shrug. “I only just woke up.” 

Bucky chuckles and reaches up to rub his eyes. “Is Kate still around?” 

“I don’t know. Kate?” Clint calls, pushing up on his elbows. Bucky’s arm tightens just slightly on his back. When there’s no response, Bucky pulls him back down. Clint settles happily on his chest. “What time is it anyway?” 

Bucky squirms around and pulls his phone from a back pocket. “Seven fifteen,” he says before setting the phone on the coffee table. 

“She’s probably out with her friends then. She should be home around nine.” 

“Wasn’t she supposed to be spending this weekend with her friends anyway?” Bucky asks. 

Clint frowns and digs out his own phone. “Yeah. Maybe she had an argument with them or something?” He taps out a message to Kate and then looks up at Bucky. “It’s not weird, is it? That I basically have a kid?” 

“No, it’s sweet.” Bucky pecks his lips. “Kate’s a cool kid, I like her.” 

“Oh, okay. Good.” Clint’s phone vibrates three times in his hands and he looks down. Bucky presses another kiss to his forehead. “Kate says Cassie’s parents were making her do homework, so they all split up for a few hours to go home and use their own showers and stuff. Look, she sent a picture.” He turns the phone to show Bucky, pointing out the faces on either side of Kate. “That’s Cassie and America, and Billy and Teddy behind them. They all attend the same therapy group.” 

“That’s good that they can be friends outside of group.” 

“Yeah, I’m glad she has friends. I didn’t have any when I was her age.” 

“Why not?” 

Clint keeps his eyes on Bucky’s chest and shrugs. “My parents died when I was a kid, and we didn’t have any family who were able to take us in, so we ended up moving around a lot.” 

“That’s rough.” Bucky pushes Clint’s hair back and kisses his head, and then thankfully changes the subject. “Hey, I don’t have work tonight, and I’m still kinda pissed at Steve. Can I stay here tonight? I don’t mind crashing on the couch or whatever.” 

“Really?” Clint asks, looking up. 

“If you and Kate don’t mind.” 

“I’ll ask her,” Clint says after a second to decide. Bucky smiles as Clint starts tapping at his phone, rubbing his hand up and down Clint’s back in slow sweeps. “She says it’s okay with her.” 

“Awesome.” Bucky plucks the phone from his hands, sets it on the table next to his own, and pulls him up for a long, slow kiss. “You wanna go get dinner?” Bucky murmurs five minutes or a lifetime later. 

“Sure,” Clint says breathlessly, leaning in for another kiss. The realization that he can do this, that someone wants him this way is… well, it’s heady. 

Eventually they drag themselves off the couch and out of the apartment. By unspoken agreement they reach for each other’s hand as soon as Clint locks the door, and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to tangle their fingers together. They wander a few blocks and stop at the first restaurant they find that isn’t fast food. It’s a Greek place that neither one has been to before, but it smells good and the prices aren’t terrible. They sit at a small table in the corner, knees knocking together under the table. The food is a little weird, and Bucky proposes sharing, both plates in the middle of the table so they can take bites from each one. By the time they leave they’re both laughing from trading stories and jokes over the food. Clint can’t remember being this happy since he last went on a date with Bobbi. 

“Hey, you okay? You got quiet,” Bucky says, looking at him with concern. 

“Yeah, I just...I was just thinking the last time I was happy like this was with Bobbi,” Clint says. 

“Who’s Bobbi?”

“My ex-wife.” Clint smiles bitterly at the look of surprise on Bucky’s face. “Yeah. She divorced me about five years ago, two years after Kate came to live with us. She didn’t like that I changed jobs. We met through work, and we were both kind of thrill seekers. But...Kate needed someone there, someone stable, and Bobbi didn’t like that I was ‘becoming less fun’ I think is how she put it. Never tell Kate this, but she also said she didn’t sign up to be a mom. I don’t want Kate to think it was her fault.” 

“That’s really harsh,” Bucky says, squeezing his hand. “Kate’s great, and you’re no slouch either.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I mean it.” Bucky tugs him close for a kiss. “If you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing before that joining a SWAT team is considered safer?” 

“That’s classified.” Bucky’s eyebrows go up. “Yeah, I can’t really talk about it, but just know that the police force and the SWAT team is infinitely safer.” 

“Wow. Okay. Well, I’m glad. If that hadn’t happened, I couldn’t be dating you right now,” Bucky says. 

Clint smiles. “Yeah, I guess some good things did come out of it. You’re the first person I’ve dated since, though.” 

“Really? Is that weird for you at all?” 

“Maybe a little. I just...hadn’t met anyone I was interested that was also cool with Kate, and I didn’t have a lot of spare time or desire to go looking either.” 

“So what you’re saying is fate brought us together,” Bucky says with a teasing smile. 

Clint chuckles and squeezes his hand. “I suppose so.” 

They fall mostly quiet after that. They swing by Bucky’s apartment so he can pack an overnight bag, Clint opting to wait outside, and then they go back to Clint’s apartment. Kate’s already there waiting for them, Natasha sitting with her at the kitchen table. 

“Hello boys,” Natasha says with a smirk. “Enjoy your date?” 

“We did actually,” Bucky says. “Can I just say, it’s a little odd seeing my coworker in my boyfriend’s apartment.” 

“He was my best friend first. And he’s my landlord,” Natasha says, like it’s a competition. 

“Adults are weird,” Kate mutters, rolling her eyes, and the situation is just so strange that Clint can’t help laughing. Bucky and Natasha join in while Kate just rolls her eyes again. 

“Well, you look like you have something to say, so if you’ll point me to the bathroom, I’ll go brush my teeth for however long it takes you to talk,” Bucky says. Clint points out the correct door, and Bucky kisses his cheek before taking his bag with him into the bathroom and closing the door. 

Natasha raises an eyebrow at Clint as soon as he’s gone. “So. You two seem pretty cozy.” 

Clint rubs the back of his neck. “Is that bad?” 

“It’s not going too fast for you?” Natasha asks back. 

“No, it’s...he’s been really nice. I told him a little about Bobbi and he’s been really understanding. I mean, we’ve known each other for a month and he only asked me to be his boyfriend...jeez, was it yesterday?” 

“Yes,” Kate answers. 

“So maybe it’s a little soon, but...I don’t know, it just feels nice to be around him. Even if it doesn’t last and he ends up dumping me for someone else.” 

“Are you going to be okay with that?” Natasha asks. 

Clint pauses. “I don't know,” he says honestly. “But if I’m not, I’ll pick up the pieces and carry on like before.” 

“And you’ll still have me,” Kate says, plastering herself to his side. 

“Of course.” Clint smiles and kisses the top of her head. “My favorite girl.”

~~

The dim light coming through Clint’s curtains in the morning shows the two of them cuddled up in bed, limbs wrapped around each other. Bucky’s head is on Clint’s chest this time, and he’s still sleeping. Clint’s been running his fingers through Bucky’s hair, but all Bucky did when he started was sigh and nuzzle closer. The long strands feel silky between Clint’s fingers as he combs them out of Bucky’s face. 

He thinks he might be falling in love with this man who’s so openly affectionate, who thinks Clint is cute and isn’t afraid to hold his hand in public. 

It’s a little bit terrifying. They barely know each other, have only been dating for a little while, and Clint hasn’t used the word ‘love’ for anyone other than Kate for five years. It’s just like him, though. He’s always fallen hard and fast, doesn’t know what it’s like _not_ to pine uselessly after someone hoping they’ll soon get to the same level. It was like that with Bobbi, and with Wade before her, and all the way back to Emily Baxter in second grade. Sometimes he wishes he could take his heart out and lock it in a safe where it couldn’t be hurt or stolen. 

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Bucky asks into his shirt. Clint glances down and Bucky looks up at him, still sleepy. 

“Nothing important. Don’t worry about it,” Clint says. 

Bucky pushes himself up on one elbow and reaches up to press his thumb between Clint’s eyes, smoothing out the furrow there. “Must be something bad if it’s making you frown like that,” he murmurs. 

Clint can’t find the will to smile, so instead he avoids Bucky’s eyes, studying the dim room as if he doesn’t already know it like the back of his hand. 

“Hey,” Bucky says, shuffling up to press kisses to his cheek, “you don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want. But I’m here if you need someone to listen.” 

He really doesn’t want to talk about it, but Bucky’s kisses are skirting the edge of his mouth and that’s something he does want. “Thanks,” he says, turning his head to face him. Bucky smiles and kisses him, soft and warm, slowly building the heat between them. Bucky traces the edge of Clint’s lips with his tongue and Clint finds himself clutching Bucky’s hips, suddenly hard and breathing fast. Bucky makes a happy sound low in his throat and grinds down on Clint with answering hardness. Clint moans and tilts his head back, and Bucky starts kissing his throat, reaching back with one hand to push at his underwear. 

“I want to feel your hands on me,” Bucky says, dragging one of Clint’s hands across his newly bare skin and moaning. Clint grabs his ass with both hands and squeezes, making Bucky jerk against him. “Yes, I love that. Do it again.” Clint barely keeps from freezing at the use of the L word, giving another squeeze and watching as Bucky’s eyes close from pleasure. Bucky squirms around until he can get enough leverage to set up a rhythm, thrusting against Clint’s hips and slowly getting them both off. 

“You feel so good,” Bucky gasps, staring intensely into Clint’s eyes. Bucky’s eyes are dark, like endless black pools, and Clint feels like he could happily drown in them. He reaches for one of Clint’s hands, tangling their fingers together, and leans down to kiss him. It changes the angle of his thrusts, putting more pressure between them and leaving them gasping in each other’s mouths. Clint grabs at him harder, arching up to meet him, and they have to break the kiss just to breathe, Bucky’s breath blowing hot on his cheek. It doesn’t take much more for them both to reach the tipping point, falling over it together and holding on to each other. They don’t let go even once it’s over, their touches only gentling until Bucky shivers at Clint’s callouses scraping over his skin. Clint moves his hand to Bucky’s lower back, still covered by his shirt, and rubs there instead. 

“...We just came in our pants like teenagers,” Bucky mutters. Clint can’t help laughing, clutching Bucky’s hand, and soon Bucky’s snickering into his shoulder. Once the hilarity fades, they end up just smiling at each other until Bucky leans in for a kiss. 

“That was really nice, thanks,” Clint says. 

“No problem,” Bucky says, murmuring against his lips between more kisses. “You wanna go shower with me before this gets all gross? We can test our refractory periods.” Clint hesitates, long enough for Bucky to stop and look at him. Despite what he said to Natasha, it seems a little fast on the physical level. 

“Yeah, okay,” Clint says. 

It still takes another minute for Bucky to roll off of him, tugging his clothes back up. “It’s a good thing I brought spare clothes. I would hate to have to walk home in these.” 

Clint silently agrees, checking to make sure there’s no one around the rest of the apartment before they head to the bathroom. 

They do end up getting off a second time in the shower, Bucky pressed hot along his back. Bucky’s dick slides smoothly against his thighs and balls, his hand soap-slick and tight on Clint’s dick, his other arm wrapped around Clint’s waist. It’s all Clint can do to hold on, gripping Bucky’s forearms as kisses are scattered on his neck with hints of scraping teeth. His legs feel like jelly afterwards, he barely manages to close his thighs tight enough for Bucky to thrust between. The water’s gone cold by the time they finish cleaning up and get out, and then they kiss against the counter in their underwear until Kate bangs on the door. 

“Some other people need to use the bathroom too, sometime today would be nice!” She says. They quickly get dressed and slip out past her, Clint smiling sheepishly as she rolls her eyes. “Just get married already if you’re gonna be so domestic,” she says as she closes the door behind her. Bucky laughs and stashes his bag by the front door. 

“She’s so charming,” he says, full of amusement as he glances at the bathroom door. 

“Yeah, that’s Kate,” Clint says. “You, uh...wanna stay for breakfast?” 

“Unless you’re kicking me out,” Bucky says, turning that warm look that makes him want to melt on him. 

“Never,” Clint swears. Bucky grins, and Clint ducks his head bashfully as he heads into the kitchen. “So, uh, chocolate chip pancakes okay?” 

“The only people who don’t like chocolate chip pancakes are people who are wrong.” Bucky pauses. “Or people with allergies.” 

“People are allergic to chocolate chip pancakes?” Kate asks, following Bucky into the kitchen. 

“Unfortunately for them, yeah,” Bucky says, looking over at her. “Nice hair.” 

Kate rolls her eyes. “I only just woke up. Breakfast before beauty.” 

“That sounds like something my sister would say.” 

“She must be a smart lady then.” 

Clint smiles to himself as he goes about making pancakes for three, listening to Kate and Bucky banter at the kitchen table. It makes him think that this whole thing might work out after all. 

~~

Bucky leaves after breakfast, saying he needs to check in with his roommate. Kate helps Clint wash the dishes before heading for her room. Clint stops her before she can close the door. 

“Hey Katie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You wanna spend some time with me today? We could go to the park and pet some dogs, maybe talk?”

“About what?” Kate raises her eyebrow. 

Clint shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “Boys? Girls? School? The weather?”

Kate snorts. “Sure, Clint. Just let me get ready. You’d better change too or I won’t let you outside with me, those pajamas are not safe for public.” 

Clint looks down at himself and sees that he’s wearing the pants with the seven inch tear above the knee that he never bothered to get rid of because they’re too comfortable. “You might have a point,” he says sheepishly. He turns and goes to his room as she closes the door. It takes him a few minutes to find his comfy jeans and a t-shirt that doesn’t have any holes in it, but he eventually succeeds. His hair gets ruffled when he drags the shirt over his head. He can’t really be bothered to fix it, hunting down his wallet and keys as he stuffs his feet into shoes. 

“You ready, Katie?” He calls, checking his phone. 

Kate comes out pulling her long hair into a ponytail. “Yeah, almost.” She looks at him and rolls her eyes. “At least put a hat on if you’re not going to comb your hair.” She goes to the place they keep their hats and picks out a pink and black one for herself, sliding her ponytail through the back of it. Kate eyes what he’s wearing before grabbing a beat up white hat that’s had the logo picked off. “Here. This way you’ll kind of match.” She holds out the hat and his sunglasses. He puts them on, turning the hat backwards, and grins at her. Kate snorts and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You’re a huge nerd, I can’t believe I’m related to you.” 

“That’s okay, I know you love me anyway,” Clint says, following her out of the apartment and locking the door behind them. 

“You just keep telling yourself that.” 

Clint chuckles and catches up to her, slinging his arm around her shoulders. 

They make it out of the building without incident, and then Kate slants a look at Clint over the top of her sunglasses. “So, you want to talk about boys? Any boy in particular? Like Bucky?” 

Clint blushes and looks away. 

“Don’t try to tell me nothing happened,” Kate continues before he can say anything. “You two came out of the bathroom together this morning, I’m not stupid.” 

“I think we should talk about something else,” Clint says. 

“You know I don’t have a problem with it, right?” Kate puts her hand on his wrist. “It’s been a long time since Bobbi, it’s okay for you to move on and find love again. Bucky seems like an okay guy, and if he isn’t, I can get Natasha to deal with him.” 

Clint snorts. “Thanks.” He pauses while they maneuver around a fire hydrant. “So, how about that weather? Any boys at school grabbing your attention?” he asks. 

It’s Kate’s turn to snort. “Subtle you are not,” she says before launching into the most recent gossip from school. Clint smiles and lets her chatter push his worries away, making a note to buy her a treat on the way home. 

~~

Kate decides to have her birthday party at Dave and Buster’s in Time Square and invite a bunch of her friends. Since the place has a limit on how many minors can be accompanied by just one adult and they exceed that (barely), Kate also tells Clint to invite some of his friends. He invites Natasha immediately, then after some thought, Bucky and his sister as well. Bucky accepts the invitation happily and says his sister is excited to meet Clint. After they hand up, Clint calls Natasha in a panic over _meeting the family_. Nat just tells him not to be an idiot and that it’ll be fine, she’s met Becca before and she’s a very nice girl. Clint still worries, though. 

Most of the group is going to meet them there, but America meets Kate, Clint, and Nat at the subway station nearest to where they all live, and Clint spends the train ride watching Kate pretend not to have a crush while Nat smirks. 

Kate’s other five friends are waiting just inside the door when they arrive, and Kate quickly disappears in a group hug. There’s no sign of Bucky and his sister, though, and Clint tries not to let his disappointment show. He pays for the group and the teenagers scatter towards the games while Natasha goes to find them a table. Someone taps his shoulder, and when he turns, Bucky slides his arms around Clint in a hug. 

“Hey there cutie,” he murmurs in Clint’s ear. Clint sighs and tucks his chin against Bucky’s shoulder. 

“I thought maybe you weren’t coming,” he says. 

“Sorry. We were Uptown and our train got delayed a little.” Bucky pulls back and kisses him with a smile before stepping back. “Clint, this is my sister, Becca, this is Clint.” 

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Becca says, stepping forward and hugging him. She smiles at him with red lips, and part of him thinks this is what Bucky would look like as a woman. They have the exact same coloring, the same confidence in their bearing, and they even have similar hairstyles. Like Bucky, the side of Becca’s head is buzzed short, then the rest of it curls down past her shoulders. “I was so glad when Bucky said he had a boyfriend, he’s been alone too long,” she continues. Bucky blushes behind her and pokes her in the ribs. 

“Becca, you promised you wouldn’t embarrass me!” he whines. Becca just smirks at him. 

“Now, Bucky tells me you have a cousin-slash-daughter around here somewhere. Where is she? I want to meet her too!” Becca says. 

Clint looks around and points. “Uh, she’s over by the pinball game, with the black hair and the purple shirt. Next to the girl with the star on the back of her jacket.” 

“Awesome! See you soon!” Becca says, heading over. 

“Sorry about her,” Bucky says, stepping into Clint’s space as another group passes them. “She got a little excited.” 

“It’s okay,” Clint says, looking at him. Bucky smiles and his eyes dart down to Clint’s lips before he leans in and kisses him again, longer and sweeter this time. 

“Hi,” he murmurs when they part. 

“Hi,” Clint murmurs back, a goofy smile on his face. 

Bucky grins and kisses him again before reaching for his hand, tangling their fingers together. “Come on, let’s go see where Kate and Becca got to. We don’t want them sharing all of our embarrassing secrets.” Clint follows the tug on his hand as they go to find the girls. 

The party seems to fly by in a whirl of food, fun, and laughter. A bunch of kids from Kate’s school show up to surprise her, singing ‘happy birthday’ and pulling out an elaborately decorated cake. America smirks like she’s behind it all and makes Kate make a wish even though there aren’t candles on it. The big blond man who brings the cake in winks at Clint, sleeves pushed up to reveal the stylized hammer tattoo on his arm as he cuts the cake. Once it’s cut, it disappears in short order, even though the kids have been stuffing themselves with pizza and french fries. 

After the party, almost all of them get on the train together, only Cassie staying behind to take another line. The kids bunch together, sitting so close some of them are almost sitting in each other’s laps. Bucky sits next to Clint, and Becca sits on his other side, and Clint wonders if he should start to worry. She keeps the conversation light, though, asking about his job and where they live and how he came to get Kate. Bucky sticks close to his side, keeping an arm around his shoulders or waist, hooking his chin over Clint’s shoulder, all the while holding Clint’s left hand in his. It’s a little distracting how Bucky lightly brushes his thumb alongside Clint’s. 

Once in Brooklyn, the kids slowly get off the train, one or two to a stop, until Kate and America are the only ones left. They come over to join the conversation, and Bucky takes over Clint’s attention by resting his head on his shoulder and smiling up at him. The butterflies in his stomach come back to visit. 

Natasha gets off one stop before theirs, claiming she has errands, and the remaining five of them pile off together at their station. Becca and Bucky somehow end up bracketing Kate, leaving America to fall back next to Clint. She raises an eyebrow at him and glances pointedly at the trio. 

“So do you think they’re interrogating her or the other way around?” America asks. 

“Why do you think anyone’s interrogating anyone?” Clint responds. 

America rolls her eyes. “Please. People always want to make sure that potential romantic partners—” she pokes him in the arm “—are good enough for their family members.” She points to Bucky. “Kate will do the same as Becca, I’m sure.” 

“Really?” Clint says. “I thought that was just a...thing that happens on tv.” 

“It happens, yeah, but it shouldn’t go to the extremes you see on tv. People don’t respect their family member’s choices or intelligence in choosing partners nearly enough. Of course, there are the abusive d-bags that are naturally suspicious, but for the most part, people are normal.” America fixes her eyes on Kate’s back. “I’m glad you haven’t done that with me.” 

Clint frowns in confusion. “Why would I do that?” 

America gestures at Kate. “Because I want to date your daughter so hard.” 

“ _Oh_. Really? That’s good.” Clint clears his throat as America looks up at him sharply. He slings his arm around her shoulders. “America, I know you’re a good kid. You’ve been a great friend to Kate, and I’m sure you’d be really good together if you started dating. Your moms did a great job raising you.” 

“Thanks.” America slings her arm around his waist to complete a little sideways hug, and Clint kisses the top of her head. “Does this mean I have your blessing to ask Kate out?” 

“If you want it,” Clint says. “You’ll have to do the asking though, she’s too nervous.” 

America looks thoughtful. “Alright, I can work with that.” 

They come up to the intersection where Bucky splits off one way and America splits off another way. Bucky draws Clint into a hug, then takes both of Clint’s hands in his and kisses him, long and gentle and sweet. They rest their foreheads together while they get their breath back, Becca pretending to be busy on her phone off to the side while Kate and America say their own goodbyes. Once America leaves, Kate starts sighing pointedly loudly behind Clint’s back. 

“The PDA police are gonna come after you,” she says finally. 

Apparently taking that as a challenge, Bucky wraps his arms tight around Clint and dips him until he can look at Kate upside down. She just rolls her eyes at them. Laughing, Bucky pecks Clint on the mouth and sets him upright again. 

“Let’s go, Bucky, Steve is waiting and he says Peggy and Sam are both there, we’ve got some prie gossiping to catch up on,” Becca says. 

Bucky reluctantly steps back, and Clint immediately wants to reach out for him again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, cutie,” Bucky says. 

“Yeah. Tomorrow,” Clint says. Bucky gives him a small smile and turns to walk away with his sister. At the end of the block, he glances back and, seeing Clint still there, lifts his arm and waves. Clint waves back and watches until they’re out of sight, and then sighs. 

“Come on, loverboy,” Kate says at his elbow. “You promised me ice cream and trashy tv, no take backs.” 

“Yeah, I know, I know.” Clint turns towards their street and grins at her. “Race you home!” He says before taking off. 

“Hey, no fair!” Kate yells, following him. 

Clint laughs all the way home. 

THE NEXT YEAR

It’s a Saturday night on Clint’s next birthday. His team is taking him out again, this time to the White Star club. He secretly convinced Blake to convince the team to take him there, not wanting to go anywhere else. 

“Hey, remember last year? It’s a shame about Red Room, huh?” Jason asks on the way over, and Clint murmurs agreement. He’s really kind of glad Red Room got shut down, actually; turned out they were stiffing several of their staff and abusing some of the girls. Bucky had been coming home angry about it for three months before Red Room crumbled, rotting from the inside out. The White Star had ended up buying them out and purchasing the building, as well as keeping all the staff that wasn’t in on the abuse and theft. Bucky had been grateful not to lose his job, or see his coworkers lose their jobs. 

“Red Room was kinda…” Brian makes a face. “They weren’t the best.” 

“How do you know? Did you visit often?” Chris teases. 

“Often enough,” Brian says. “I like the White Star better. The management is a lot better.” 

“Yeah but we’re not going there for the _management_ ,” Jason says, rolling his eyes. 

“Jason! You weren’t supposed to say where we’re going!” Chris says, Brian reaching over to smack his arm. Clint glances at Blake and rolls his eyes. 

“Come on, guys, like I didn’t know you were taking me to a strip club again?” he says while Blake hides a smirk. 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Brian grumbles. 

“Sorry, you guys are too predictable,” Clint says. 

Jason leans over. “Still, it’s kind of a shame about that dancer from last year, right? I wonder where he’s gone.” 

“I’m sure he’s doing fine for himself,” Clint says. 

“Maybe Clint will have a chance to meet someone else this time,” Blake says. 

“As long as he doesn’t leave early again,” Jason says pointedly. 

“Nah, Kate’s spending the night with some friends. We celebrated my birthday this morning.” 

“Good! First round of drinks is on me,” Jason says as they pull up to the club. They all pile out and meet the rest of the team, who came in a different car. 

The club is already crowded, and there’s a line to get in. Once they manage to get inside and grab some seats, next to the stage by some act of magic, Brian and Jason go to get drinks. The rest turn their attention to the stage, where Bucky is swaying to the music and acting indecent with the pole, wearing his usual boots and tight black briefs, along with a healthy helping of glitter. He bends over backwards, keeping a tight grip, and grins when he sees Clint. Clint grins back at him. Bucky continues his routine, throwing a few sultry looks at Clint over the course of it. 

“Here we go!” Jason says, returning with drinks and distracting Clint for a moment. The drinks get passed around and Jason drops into the chair next to Clint, frowning up at Bucky. “Does he look familiar to you?” 

“Does he?” Clint responds. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s the guy who danced for you at your last birthday,” Jason says, just as Bucky sends a flirty smile at Clint. “I wonder if he remembers you! Maybe you made an impression.” 

The music ends, and Bucky bows to the audience and then gathers his tips and hops off the stage as Natasha walks out to take his place. He heads straight for their table and plops himself down on Clint’s lap, arms going around his neck. 

“Hey babe,” Bucky says. 

“Hey handsome,” Clint says back, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist. He can see his teammates going still with shock from the corner of his eye, before Blake bursts out laughing. “You looked good up there,” Clint continues. 

“I look good everywhere,” Bucky smirks. “You gonna introduce me to your friends?” he asks, running his fingers through Clint’s hair. 

“Team, this is Winter, Winter, this is the team,” Clint says, barely looking at them. 

“Charmed,” Bucky says over Blake’s laughter. 

“What the fuck,” Jason says. 

Bucky looks back at Clint. “I gotta go work the room, but I’ll be back later for you, cutie.” He squeezes Clint with his thighs before he stands up and walks away, adding a little swing to his step because he knows Clint is watching him. 

Clint gets jolted out of his staring by smacks to both of his arms. “Ow, what?” 

“What the fuck, Clint?” Jason demands. 

“Who was that?” Chris demands. 

Clint rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “That’s, uh...that’s my boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend?!” Jason practically shrieks. Blake goes into a new bout of laughter, having almost calmed down. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”

“Since about eleven months ago?” Clint looks after Bucky, watching him talk to a client. “We happened to meet up on the train about a week after my birthday last year, and he asked me out. A couple weeks later he asked me to be his boyfriend.” He smiles sheepishly in the incredulous faces of his team. 

“And you don’t mind that?” Brian asks, gesturing at Bucky. Clint glances over to see the client has put a hand on Bucky’s hip and is looking at him hungrily. He shrugs. 

“It’s his job. He likes it, he’s good at it, and it’s his choice what he wants to do with his body.” Clint smirks. “Besides, I know it’s me that he comes home to, not any of them.”

“Wow,” Chris whistles. “I don’t know if I’d be that confident in your shoes.” 

“Oh I wasn’t at first either, but he took the time to convince me.” Clint sips his drink, watching as Bucky leads the client to a back room, winking at Clint when he catches his eye. A few other dancers approach their group, and Clint lets them move the focus off of him, sitting back in his chair. They all recognize him as Bucky’s, so they leave him alone to his thoughts. 

What his team doesn’t know is that Clint has a question to ask at the end of Bucky’s shift tonight. Peggy told him she and Sam are going to propose to Steve, stealing away Bucky’s roommate. Clint and Bucky aren’t ready for a ring yet, but he knows that Bucky doesn’t like living alone. He’s going to ask Bucky to move in with him, having already cleared it with Kate, and he’s pretty sure that Bucky is going to say yes. 


End file.
